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1. What inspired you to
write about the Maya in Time & Transformation?
Two things, the place itself—the
Yucatan peninsula, and the brilliance of the Classic Mayan concepts.
The Yucatan is quintessential mystery
with its combination of turquoise ocean, white sand beaches and interior
forests where there are more varieties of birds than in any other single
region on the planet. The sounds at
night of thousands of kinds of insects and birds are not to be found anywhere
else. They evoke mystery. So being in that environment stories
flooded my mind; of ancient people and what life might have been like when
lived in such a place. Then there were
the concepts that arose in that environment two to three thousand years ago
when the people were as open and innocent as I experienced on my trips
there. The land speaks and what it has
to say is beautiful; about life and the gods and harmony, about time and
transformation. It is a place that is
both dark and light, as all places are, but in this place those forces seem
to work with one another, at least as I looked at them.
When I went there I felt, and still
do feel, that the gods and goddesses are speaking and because the place is
barely habitated by humans, I could hear them speak. I believe that the biggest difference
between earlier cultures and our present one is that it was quieter, in a
myriad of ways, and that quiet allowed people’s imagination to flourish,
especially spiritually. Or more
precisely, all that is unseen but exists in some form that is perceptible to
us if we have the space and time to “listen” and by listen I mean with all of
the senses which includes our intuition.
As I listened the place told me the story of the divine twins and
their journey to discover a new vision. How much of any story is our own? I
don’t know and don’t care. I do care that I could hear the story and
communicate it to others. I hope it
has the desired effect—to activate the spiritual imagination.
2. Why is that important?
I grew up as a singer and I sang to inspire. Writing is just my current form.
If it doesn’t inspire, I feel I’ve not done my job.
3. What has that to do
with writing stories?
I
believe that an individual’s life is the most important story there is, and
that we‘re drawn to other stories in order to make sense of our own; to gain
a different perspective, even if it‘s just to get away from ours for a
moment. What constitutes what we call a story is that there’s a path, and
there’s always a friend/mentor/guide, and there is an enemy/foe/villain.
These opposing forces are companions through the story, and though they
usually morph into different people along the way, they continue to fulfill
their roles; prodding, cajoling, challenging, depressing, denying, encouraging
as is their nature, to guide us on that path to some semblance of a realized
human being. Because my story is fundamentally made up of the same elements
as every other story, when I hear or read a story, I experience a resonance;
I feel connected and a transmission occurs. It is this transmission that I
aim for in all my work, because my photography is as much storytelling as my
fiction writing.
3. Can you give me an example of how you do that?
:
Let me give you an illustration from my life which is an example of what I
believe and that my fiction demonstrates. That belief is that everything is
important on our path, that there are no easy answers, that there are no
wrong turns that can’t be righted further along, and that enemies are as
important as friends in finding our way.
My first friend was my grandmother, and first foe, my mother. As with all
stories that begin with a dark mother --step-mother is the familiar term used
in fairy tales to describe the archetypal experience of beginning life in
conflict -- the tension of the story begins immediately. My three younger
brothers and I learned to survive in an essentially hostile environment. My
father was a typical man of his era; off at work “for the family” leaving us
in the hands of our nemesis. It’s curious that it wasn’t terrible; we played
highly imaginative games, we made friends, went to school and learned, and
the darkness that permeated our home was simply the water we’d learned to
swim in. We became good swimmers. The larger context was California; all over
the map because of our father’s work.
Every poison has an antidote. Gram Daisy, as we’d learned to call our
grandmother because of her dog-companion, Daisy, was as good a friend as we
could have wanted. She did all the good-mother things; showering us with
affection and love, and consistently encouraging us to be ourselves, which
she considered to be quite perfect.
Because of that environment of opposites, I sang as a young child;
essentially to give expression to feelings I had no other outlet for, and to
lighten the environment. Talent shows in grammar school led to leads in
musicals and solo performances in high school. However, I couldn’t yet avoid
the pitfalls set in my path, and by the time my friends were going off to
college, I was pregnant and in a loveless marriage; early dark home-life
leads to another one. The face of the foe morphs into a husband, even crazier
than the first. By the time I was 23 I had two beautiful baby boys, my
husband was in a mental institution, and I was divorced. I began to have a
definite sense that what didn’t kill me was making me stronger.
A deep curiosity began to manifest as a desire to understand the cruelty, and
stupidity that had been such a large part of my story. To make sense of what
didn’t make sense. Because of my Grandmother and a couple of teachers, I knew
it didn’t have to be that way, so why were there so many people who didn’t
know how to love; who chose to hurt instead, who had little or no ability to
feel for another person? Why was the world this way when it could be
otherwise, I asked myself? Naturally, I didn’t have any answers to these kind
of questions, but a neat thing occurs in this chapter because it’s now the
late 60’s, I live in California, and we are “flower children.” What a relief,
and since my personality is essentially to inspire, I embraced the new
philosophy with my entire being. We would make a better world. With a song in
my heart I set out with my two boys to Northern California where two of my
brothers were going to college. I would make a new life; a life with new
values, and new friends.
How do you go to college with no means of financial support and two small
children? These kind of challenges constitute a foe in a story, but one that
is not against you so much as challenging, to see if you really mean what you
say. Like the guardians at the gates of new territory in a hero’s journey; if
you are confidant in what you say you want, they will let you pass. So with a
great deal of stamina and that word again-- curiosity, I found the means and
began to find some answers. A course in Philosophy and World Religions was
the first class I took and the one that opened the gates to the part of my
path that has continued to be the central theme of my life.
One has to be some distance on their path before there’s enough behind them
to look back and realize that if it hadn’t been for all of the circumstance
and characters, they would not be where they are today. It was when I began
to hear my own story that I was moved to write. To share my particular
perspective with others, make that resonance that can be a bridge to
understanding.
4. You’re very optimistic.
It‘s a conscious choice, for if we don’t know what the truth about life
is--and I challenge anyone to tell me that they do for I sincerely believe it
is a mystery -- we might as well believe that good will win over bad. There’s
so much pain and wrong in the world for which we can rightly feel sad, and
which we can do little about, that being positive is the best antidote.
5. Have you found the answers you were looking for?
I have found a myriad of answers and even more questions -- but I say that
with joy. The questions unfold the mysteries which lead to the wonder and awe
of the universe with all of its beauty and love, darkness and savagery;
mystery is the heart of a story.
6. Can you talk about ‘place’ in your stories?
Absolutely. Let me say more about how exploration plays a part in my writing.
I’ve traveled quite a bit in my adult life and every place I’ve been to has
had something different to say. When it captures my imagination, I’m moved to
enquire further into it, and the way I do that is by creating a story that,
through it’s characters, let’s me delve into that message. Making it a novel
rather than just journal notes, forces a deeper enquiry because I have to be
able to communicate to an audience-- that process forces my consciousness to
be articulate. In other words to really understand what I’m saying. What
begins as an intuition leads me on a path whose end I can’t see but follow
just as I would a road I found myself on where there was not a posted sign.
7. Do you ever get stuck or waylaid?
You must be joking. Doesn’t any traveler? I sit by the side of the road a
lot, head in hands lost, frustrated, doubtful, confused. All those things are
part of any path. Remember the enemy issue I discussed earlier? Major foes in
the creative process pop up all the time. For the most part I try to befriend
them. When they’re too nasty and don’t respond to my friendliness, I may take
out my sword and slay them or ignore them and walk around or lay down and
take a nap; whatever occurs to me at the time.
8. Who are the people who’ve inspired you?
My grandmother, maybe because she was the first. I feel that everyone I’ve
known well enough to see their lives has inspired me in some fashion. Again,
foes and friends offer different kinds of inspiration. For example, foes
teach me how not to be. I’ve had many extraordinary teachers -- few of what
I’d call enemies in my later years. I think I had enough early on -- who have
contributed to my understanding for which I’m eternally grateful.
9. What kind of family life have you had as an adult?
I’ve married three times, had two sons and a daughter. I love my children but
frankly, beginning life with the kind of mother I had, being a mother myself
has been one of my challenges. Being a truly good mother didn’t come
naturally to me, though it was always my goal. You’d have to ask my children
if I succeeded. Most days, I believe I did. I live alone now and love it. My
family time has passed.
In India, one of the ways they see an individual life is that there are
stages. First the child learns and is cared for by family. Then they create
their own family and contribute to society in some way. When their children
leave home, the individual is also free to leave familial and societal
responsibilities; to put on the robes of a seeker of truth and go out with a
begging bowl to once again be cared for by others. I’ve always related to
that story, and in my own way, have embraced the parts that fit me. No
begging bowl, though! That is a foe I hope not to encounter.
10. What about career?
Once my daughter was in school I went back myself and eventually completed a
Masters degree in Psychology and have been a private counselor and workshop
leader for 25 years. I’ve studied most of the world’s spiritual teachings for
some period of time over those years continuing to fill my cup of curiosity.
I am always a learner.
11 Do you have other creative avenues?
Writing and photography are my main adult forms of singing. Though I have
always kept up my singing, just not publicly. I paint and have a passion for
gardening. I’ve created several that I love. Home decorating is an ongoing form.
I’ve moved three times in the last 7 years, so I’ve had a lot of opportunity.
Photography allows me a way to share my love for the world; for places, for
feelings, that’s immediate. I need that when I’m working on a novel that
takes years.
However, I could lose any of those but I couldn’t lose the writing. I write
for joy, for inspiration and to explore the questions that I love. Though I
teach didactically in sessions with clients and in workshops, my favored form
is story. Christ understood that we all relate to a story. Why is that? I
believe it is because our life is a story, so it is a form that we understand
unconsciously where there is little resistance to hearing what’s being said.
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